One Sunday morning ToeKnee asked his mother if he could go for a walk, smiling that special big smile of his. "Of course, my angel, she said, patting him on the head and giving him some coins to buy sweets with plenty of nice E-numbers in them, "but don't be late for lunch! She stood at the door waving until he turned the corner at the bottom of the street ” how proud she was of her nice little lad. ToeKnee walked happily around the teeny-weeny little village of Great Brattin, smiling his big smile at everyone bigger than him, and stopping now and then to lick some boots, or to admire the pretty pieces of broken glass and deep-fried potato the talented Brattish people had cleverly arranged on the pavements.
